


Safety Drill

by Synchron



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Creampie, F/M, Public Sex, Risk of being caught
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27260242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synchron/pseuds/Synchron
Summary: It's just a drill.Standard procedure, really.
Relationships: Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Reader, Vergil (Devil May Cry)/You
Comments: 8
Kudos: 187





	Safety Drill

**Author's Note:**

> So I was at work however many days ago now, I have lost all sense of time, and there was a mandatory evacuation drill Just Because, I guess. And then Aii said a few things along the lines of "Vergil whisking you away for a good time while everybody else is outside" and I couldn't stop thinking about it, so here I am with this, many days later, and also because AII IS A MEANIE BO BEANIE DO NOT LET HER INNOCENT EXTERIOR FOOL YOU SHE HAS A KNIFE BEHIND HER BACK AT ALL TIMES THIS IS A CALL OUT POST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> Now if you will excuse me, I will leave this here and go have a nap because I am tired™ I hope you like it. 🙏💖

Outside the bathroom stall, a siren blares; a low, keening whoop that rises and falls in steady intervals, signalling an evacuation from the building for all employees. It's nothing serious, just a fire drill. Standard procedure, but compulsory. Everybody else is following the instructions of the building's managerial staff, making their way towards the exit to congregate outside.

Everybody except you.

Well. You and Vergil.

He'd shown up out of the blue, toting your little canvas bag containing your lunch. You'd forgotten it this morning on your way out, and ever thoughtful (or ever cunning, you haven't decided which it is yet), Vergil thought to bring it to you. He was in the middle of negotiating an appropriate gesture of thanks (so cunning, definitely), when the alarm began blaring, and with a playful smile of your own, you shrugged at him.

"Oh, that's just too bad, looks like this'll have to wait." You said, coy, but also oblivious to the intent behind the smile Vergil returned to you.

He was walking out with you, just another two people among a crowd, until he took your hand, and without warning, tugged you down an empty corridor and into the disabled toilet stall.

He didn't even bother locking it.

Vergil silenced you with a searing kiss the moment the door closed, leaving no room nor time for you to object, swallowing every last one of your valiant protests until they turned into soft whines, and your hands began to mirror his own - wandering, feeling, slipping beneath clothing in search of heated skin.

It took seconds for your defiance to melt under the constant heat, the pressure that Vergil exudes in multitudes, the weight of it nearly buckling your knees. Would have, really, if he hadn't caught you and hoisted you up onto the sparse counter space next to the sink. The soap dispenser is digging into your back, but there are far more pressing matters to tend to. One such matter being the fact that his body is between your legs in an instant - not that you would dare dream of closing them on him (unless it is his head there instead) - hiking up your pencil skirt and revealing the smooth, sheer lycra stockings you're wearing underneath.

"Have I ever told you how good you look in stockings?" He muses, voice and words a slow drawl in comparison to the racing of hearts and the erratic thumping of your blood; a momentary interlude that steeps the flavour of this tryst. His large hands sweep up the length of your thighs, converging on your hips, pushing your skirt higher until it bunches, useless, around your waist. Your hands skim his forearms, fingers squeezing to feel the tight muscle underneath his coat, trying to hide your squirming, the impatient writhe of your hips, with simple misdirection. But the flash of silver in his eyes reminds you that he rarely misses a beat.

"No, but I think I have an idea," one of your hand drops to his front where you caress at the growing bulge inside his pants, earning you an amused hum.

Sliding his hands around to your lower back, helping to guide you towards him, Vergil leans back in to capture your mouth, pulling back at the last second when your tongue automatically seeks his, denying you his taste and dragging his lips down your pulse instead. "You should wear them for me more often." He says in between soft bites. Not hard enough to discolour your skin; he isn't _that_ crass.

But the thought is tempting.

"For _you_?"

Vergil lifts his head to watch you challenge him, his eyes, half lidded and somehow sultry, flickering faintly with a spectral, silver glow, licking at the edges of his pupils. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes, always so expressive of his intent, oozes a sense of power you could never oppose.

He answers you not with words, but with a sudden tug as he tears your stockings open at the crotch. You never even noticed his hands had left your back - such is the power of his gaze. But just like that, with a rip of shredded lycra, the interlude ends.

It becomes a clamour after that; a mad scrambling of hands undoing belts and popping buttons; lips moving over and against one another; tongues melding and sharing flavours; desperate little gasps and moans. When he pulls the seat of your panties to one side, delightfully wet already, he slides inside you with a greedy sort of grace. Just one full stroke all the way to the hilt and then your bodies are flush.

But only for a short moment.

He begins fucking you almost immediately, wrenching your hips towards him on every forward thrust until he builds a rhythm of skin on skin where you sing his praises with pants and hiccuped gasps and pitched sobs of his name. You're not sure how loud you're being, the sounds of your voice bouncing off bathroom tiles ring so much louder in your ears because the stall is just so small and enclosed, but you know Vergil gets off on hearing that too; he loves to listen to the results of his affections. It doesn't matter what part of him you're taking your pleasure from, be it his mouth or fingers or even his thigh, but he always has to hear you. All the more when you're crying his name over and over and over, whether into his ear, or muffled into a pillow while he has you from behind.

There is perhaps one thing he enjoys more though.

You give a strangled, impatient whine when his hips slow and the fever falls back down to a gentle simmer, missing the voracity of his movements, and the way his cock fills you so thoroughly. He's only a little out of breath, though not because he's tired by any means - he does so love the thrill that comes with teasing you, dragging out your release for an extra few minutes. An extra few hours. Should he leave you like _this_ , he wonders? But when he looks at your face, already far gone and lost to the sopping mess between your legs, he doesn't think he can help himself. Not when you're being just so good for him. As you always are. Wet and ready and willing.

He hushes you when you try to speak, voice soft like velvet. "I imagine the building's staff will be doing a final sweep for stragglers by now."

On cue, you can hear a set of faint footsteps in the distance, the buzz of radios as they communicate with one another, sweeping the building floor by floor.

"Wouldn't it be _awful_ if they found you like this?" Vergil rasps into your ear. "If they followed the sound of your sweet voice to this very bathroom, to find you fucked stupid during a mandatory drill."

When normally so literate and poised, the degenerate filth that Vergil surprises you with never fails to make you quiver; he could call you his little whore and you would probably cum from that alone.

His hips resume their pace, starting up in slow, shallow thrusts that have your head hanging back, lower lip pinched between your teeth to stifle your own sounds.

"What a _shame_ that would be."

The footsteps click down the hall towards the bathroom, closer now. And so are you. Thighs trembling, cunt squeezing. The thrill of being found in such a state - stockings torn, legs spread wide with your lover buried balls deep within you - makes your head spin, and your thoughts melt from the tip of your tongue.

"You'd never be able to look anybody in the eye again."

"Fuck– _yes_ …" You don't know what you're agreeing to honestly, but the words tumble from your parted lips all the same. Just a whisper. A whine. Unequivocal proof that all you're _really_ thinking about is when he'll make you cum.

"Shh," he rumbles, pressing your thighs open a little wider with the flat of his palms, cock languidly, lazily, pumping in and out your heat with lewd, wet squelches, "they'll hear you," he groans, hums when he feels your little cunt contract around him, fluttering with an aberrant need, "and then they'll find us."

Vergil's voice drops into a deep purr, a whisper that tickles the shell of your ear, sends a tingle down your spine and makes your toes curl. "Or is that what you want? To cum in plain sight of strangers?"

Your moans taper off into a high pitched keen, smothered by his lips on yours as the footsteps come to a stop just outside the bathroom. He could continue like this, swallowing down every last whimper and making your pleasure his own, but he pulls back to huff quiet breaths by your ear, testing the limits of your own restraint as he continues fucking you. It's agonizingly slow, the pleasure building thrust by thrust by thrust, coaxed along by his murmured praises and breathed out versions of your name, because he knows full well that you like to hear him too.

Your voice is airy, distinctly out of breath, growing more rapid the longer the people linger outside the bathroom, listening perhaps, for the mysterious noises that lead them down this lonely hallway. The door to the bathroom is unlocked. Any louder and they could simply come in to properly investigate, to find you perched upon the counter with your legs spread shamelessly wide, your silky slick pooling atop the laminated surface and dripping onto the floor below, all because Vergil's cock is nudging, oh so gently, that spongy part deep inside of you that makes tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

Oh the shame of that would _burn_ , but that's what makes you suck in one final breath, your hands reaching around him to grip at his coat, his lapels, his hair - _anything_ \- and cum with a silent cry. Soundless gasps fall recklessly from your mouth, your body feeling far too light for the intensity of what even the _prospect_ of being caught has done to your inhibitions, and though you want to scream, to give away what filthy deed your lover had stolen you away to perform, you find that even keeping quiet makes the rapture all the sweeter. You hear a rumble from deep within Vergil's chest, your velvety pussy too smooth and wet and welcoming and _tight_ , before he grunts your name into your hair, sinks right into you - as far as you'll take him - and empties himself in thick spurts.

Together, even as the footsteps beyond the door recede and shrink back into the distance, you ride out this silent, soundless high, your eyes rolling back with each pump of cum that graces your fluttering cunt, again and again, more and more. Until you are full, and he is satisfied.  
  


* * *

  
"Where did you go?" your coworker asks you, "You were right with us one minute, and gone the next, I was worried!"

"Oh, uh…" you fidget on the spot, masking the way your thighs rub together, still damp from your tryst in the bathroom, the thick, heavy sensation that weighs your panties down sparking a fresh wave of need within you. Vergil's abundant cum seeps from within your folds, oozing slowly but surely and making such a mess of your thin panties. He didn't even bother cleaning you up, just helped you off the counter and pulled your panties back into place, parting from you with a full-palmed slap to your ass the instant your skirt was back where it should be. You're even still wearing the damn stockings - thank the lord that your skirt covers the tear... "Just got lost in the crowd, I guess?"

"Are you alright though? You didn't get lost or anything?"

"No, not at all." You wave them off with a casual flick of your hand. "I... was in good hands for this drill."


End file.
